


Then Actor. It's Compactor, but Always Arrives Overdone

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sweeny Todd References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4392401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's always run tech in plays. Lights and sound and set -- that's his passion. But seeing Castiel all dressed up on stage has him distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Actor. It's Compactor, but Always Arrives Overdone

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt for iamthatonechick who wanted ""

_They all deserve to die. Tell you why, Mrs. Lovett, tell you why._

_Because in all of the whole human race, Mrs Lovett, there are two kinds of men and only --_

“Stop!” the director shouted. “Cut! Stop! Just . . .” She sighed and turned to look at Sam, who was sitting in the tech booth and aggressively avoiding looking at the director. She was the head of the drama department, sure, but that didn’t mean she didn’t intimidate the hell out of Sam.

“Winchester, I made you the head of tech for a reason!” she shouted up to him. “If you keep missing your queues, I can just as easily remove you from the project altogether.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Campbell. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not. We open tomorrow.” she sighed again, wearily. “Okay, everyone take ten. Rosen, I know you don’t have much in this bit, but you’ve got to make it count. You were horribly sharp. Novak, you were excellent, as always, but I could stand to see a bit more rage from you. Winchester, get your act together or you won’t _have_ an act anymore.”

The director left the auditorium with a flourish, and Sam swallowed thickly. He loved working behind the scenes with sets and lights and sound. He loved establishing the atmosphere and the queues in creative ways. It was his idea to brighten and dim the lights with the song, and now he was having trouble keeping up.

He knew the issue, of course. The issue was that he should have never volunteered for this project in the first place, because he knew -- he _knew_ \-- that the lead actor would do nothing but distract him.

Castiel Novak was also a theatre major, but even though they had different focuses, Sam couldn’t help but notice how many classes they shared. It was like his own personal game of Where’s Waldo, and he won every time.

Castiel was gorgeous and quiet and had the voice of a fucking angel. When he wasn’t singing, he was waxing philosophical or pondering his existential inquiries aloud. He was a mystery for sure, but Sam could not get him out of his head.

And in dress rehearsal? Let’s just say that Mr. Tall Dark And Handsome looks fantastic in eyeliner and ruffles. It’s certainly not helping Sam’s cause.

Sam considered trying out for a part, and every rehearsal, he cursed himself for chickening out. To be on stage with Castiel? The concept was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Sam Winchester?”

Sam almost jumped out of his skin. He was used to being alone in his booth. The girl running sound was sectioned off somewhere else.

But it was Castiel standing at the doorway, and if the eyeliner and ruffles (and God that sex hair) looked good from the stage, it looked a million times better close up.

“Miss Campbell calls you Winchester,” Castiel continued as if he couldn’t hear Sam’s pulse skyrocketing. “What should I call you?”

“She calls you Novak,” Sam answered belatedly. He stuttered and held his hand out. Castiel just smiled.

“Sam. Call me Sam.”

“Sam,” Castiel repeated, shaking Sam’s hand with both of his own. “You can call me Cas.”

“Okay, C-Cas. What can I help you with?”

Cas drops his hands, but Sam’s still tingles with the contact. “I was wondering if you’d like to rehearse together. Later. You’ve been missing your light queues.”

“Oh. Right. About that -- “

“It’s an issue easily corrected. Your timing for everything else is perfect. I just thought we might both benefit from some additional practise. Would you like to come back to my place after dress?”

 _This is not a date it’s not a date it’s just practise not a date dammit._ “Yeah, sure, I can do that.”

Sam didn’t think he’d ever seen Cas smile out of character before. He really really hoped he’d get to see that smile more often.

“Great,” Cas said as he turned to leave. “Maybe we can go over where you’re having troubles and go from there.”

“Y-yeah, sounds great, Cas,” Sam agreed, but Cas had already left the booth.

Sam’s heart was still hammering in his chest. He had a date -- no, not a date -- a kind of study date -- with Cas of all people. He had to be dreaming.

There was a knock on the wall of the booth. Sam glanced at his next visitor and groaned. So much for a break. If this was a dream, it was quickly turning into a nightmare.

“Hey, Sam,” Becky greeted, sauntering over to where he sat. “You wanna go out tonight? To celebrate the play opening, of course.”

“Becky, the play doesn’t open until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but everybody will be celebrating tomorrow. Tonight it’ll just be you and me.”

Sam cringed. “As lovely as that sounds, I’m busy tonight.”

“What could be more important than -- “

“Cas and I are rehearsing some more.”

Becky blinked for a moment in confusion before realising what Sam said. “You mean Castiel? He hates being called Cas. Just FYI. Whatever, I can take a rain check.”

Becky made a point to sway her hips on her way out, but Sam wasn’t paying attention. Castiel hated being called Cas?

Rather than being disappointed, Sam felt encouraged, reinvigorated, even. When the director returned and rehearsal resumed, Sam was much more focused, but only because he thought he might actually have a date tonight.

 

 


End file.
